


Breath of Life

by abstractSilver (Starlightstiel)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Dean, Dubious Consent, Human Dean, M/M, Robot Castiel, Robots, Top Castiel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-19
Updated: 2014-02-19
Packaged: 2018-01-13 01:24:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1207639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starlightstiel/pseuds/abstractSilver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Angels are robots that were created to serve humanity. Dean Winchester has never trusted them. After he suffers a life-altering injury in the war however, he has no choice but to tolerate one in his home on his brother's insistence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breath of Life

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the SPN kink meme: http://spnkink-meme.livejournal.com/80640.html?thread=29918720t29918720
> 
> Everyone was doing robot au fic, and I wanted to try my hand at it.

“Take him back Sam.”

“Dean-”

“Now, Sammy.” Dean swallowed heavily as he tore his eyes away from the stoic figure standing motionlessly in front of him. He felt his hand clench reflexively in anxiety as he turned his gaze from the eerily motionless person- no, _thing_ in front of him and focused on his brother's pleading face instead.

“Dean, just... Just listen, okay?” Sam pleaded as he held his brother's gaze, imploring hazel meeting enraged green. 

“Sam. No.” Dean barked. “I don't want one of those _things_ anywhere near me. Even if I did, no way in hell I could possibly afford-”

“You don't have to pay for him, Dean!” Sam immediately responded, eyes turning hopeful. “A lot of people in your situation use Angels to help-”

“I'm not a cripple.” Dean snapped in response as he limped across the room and leaned his head heavily against the wall. “I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

“No, Dean. You aren't.” Sam responded gently as he took a few hesitant steps toward his brother. “You haven't stopped drinking since you came home. You called me last night because your leg cramped in the tub and you couldn't get-”

“Jesus Sam!” Dean hissed as his eyes flashed over to the Angel nervously. The dark haired figure remained completely motionless, blue eyes staring unseeingly at the wall. Fucking creepy. Sam sighed in frustration and tried again. 

“Dean, please. There isn't anything to be embarrassed about here.”

Dean wanted to protest, but a flare of pain up his calf had him wincing in agony instead. Sam seemed to know immediately what the problem was, because he was instantly at Dean's side, supporting his brother's weight as he guided him toward the couch. It took several moments for Dean to regain his composure, and that time was spent doubled over in pain as his brother stroked his back comfortingly.

When he lifted his head to look at Sam once more, there was resignation there. “You're not going to drop this, are you?”

“Just try it out, that's all I'm saying.” Sam reluctantly removed his hand from Dean's back and looked back at the Angel. “Don't worry about the cost. You were wounded in the line of duty, the military has already agreed to make the payments on him as a medical expense.”

“I don't need _charity_ Sam.” Dean replied immediately, obviously displeased. There was much less venom to his words this time though, and Sam knew this battle was won.

“Give him a couple of weeks. If you hate him? Fine, we can send him back. Okay?” Sam offered, giving his brother one last pat on the back before standing and walking toward the Angel. Dean leaned back heavily against the cushions and rubbed absentmindedly at his aching leg and hip.

“He's already had his basic OS installed, so you shouldn't have to fiddle with that too much.” Sam opened the messenger bag slung over his shoulder and began to rifle around, then drew out a small disk. “If for some reason you need to reset him, just insert this into his disc drive. It's hidden right now, but just ask him and he should open up for you.”

“Can't you see how creepy this thing is?” Dean mumbled, grabbing the cane that was leaning against the coffee table and pulling himself to his feet. He limped over to Sam, giving the Angel as wide of a berth as possible. Sam just sighed.

“So... What model is he? Cherub?” Dean forced himself to glance at the figure once more, but quickly turned away. Sam shook his head and smiled.

“That's just the thing. He's a Seraph.”

Dean didn't respond at first as shock flooded his brain. The new model of Angel had been all over the news recently. Seraphs were the most advanced models available to the general public, and the most expensive. He turned to Sam doubtfully. “My crappy insurance is going to pay for this?”

“Your insurance isn't _crappy_ , Dean.” Sam rolled his eyes in obvious frustration. “This is the least they can do for you after what happened.”

Dean still felt reluctant, but his brother looked so damned into the whole thing he didn't have the heart to shoot him down. He could just keep the stupid thing in a closet for a week or something and then tell Sam it wasn't going to work out.

“I wish I could stick around, but I have to get back to the firm.” He looked down at his watch and sighed. “Like I said, everything is already installed. He'll probably ask you some basic stuff to complete the owner registration process, but it should be pretty self-explanatory.”

“You're leaving me alone with this thing?” Dean asked, nerves immediately clenching in his chest. Sam nodded and slung his bag back over his shoulder as he made his way toward the door. “I'll stop by after work to make sure everything is going smoothly.”

Dean wanted to protest more. He wanted to take back his reluctant acceptance and tell Sam to take the damn Seraph back. Unfortunately, Sam was already gone when he managed to gather his thoughts adequately. He leaned heavily on his cane and stared at the Angel nervously. The Angel still gazed unseeingly at the wall, body set in the exact same position it had been since Sam walked in with it and told it to stay put.

“Uh, hello?” Dean waved a hand in front of its face, and nearly fell over as it turned its head to stare at him with those unnatural blue eyes. He clutched his chest tightly and took a moment to compose himself. That damn thing was going to give him a heart attack.

“Hello, Dean.” The Angel replied. His voice wasn't mechanical per-say, in fact Dean was surprised at how human it sounded, all rough and gravelly. It was, however, completely devoid of any kind of emotion, which was a dead giveaway.

“You know my name?” He asked, thoroughly disturbed. The Angel blinked once (did robots even need to blink?) and replied.

“Dean Winchester. Age 29. Male. Unmarried. Honorably Dischar-”

“Okay, okay!” Dean immediately interjected. He didn't need to hear his whole pathetic life history read out loud to him. The Angel fell silent at his request, and Dean just felt uncomfortable. “So... Do you need to like, charge or anything?”

“My battery is currently running at 97%. I have an approximate 336 hours and 17 minutes until system shutdown. Would you like me to enter power saving mode?” 

“Uh...” Dean wasn't really sure what he was being asked, and he sure as hell wasn't going to ask him to explain. “No, that's fine.”

The Angel nodded and immediately walked past Dean and toward the kitchen. “Hey!” Dean called after him, leaning against his cane and trying to keep up with the swift, mechanical pace of the Angel. The Angel stopped and turned to face him. “What the hell do you think you're doing? I didn't give you permission to just start wandering around.”

“It is time for a meal, correct? I was programmed to prepare them for you.” The Angel responded. Dean groaned.

“Dammit Sam...” He muttered, looking up at the ceiling in exasperation. “Just, no. You don't need to make my meals or whatever, okay? Go sit on the couch or something.”

The Angel nodded and immediately complied with Dean's request. He stared at him for a few moments, then limped back to his bedroom and slammed the door. He knew he was being childish, but he was pissed that Sam thought he needed a damn robot to take care of him. He took a long swig from the bottle of Jack on his dresser and curled up to sleep.

Dean cursed loudly as he felt someone shaking him awake. His head was pounding, and he opened a bleary eye to take in the unhappy face of his brother. “How did you get in here?” He slurred, squinting his eyes against the harsh light.

“Castiel let me in.”

“Castiel?” Dean mumbled, sitting up slowly and yawning. “Whossat?”

“The Angel, Dean.” Sam sounded incredibly displeased, and Dean knew better than to push him. He reached blindly onto his bedside table for the bottle of Jack. Hopefully he could hide it without his brother seeing it. Sam sighed and held it up. “Looking for this?” 

“It's been a rough day, Sammy.”

“You promised you wouldn't do this again, Dean.” Sam didn't sound angry anymore, just tired. Dean felt guilt twist in his gut.

“What, never have a drink? Sorry, but that ain't gonna happen.” He replied. Sam gave him that _look_ though, and he knew he was going to get a lecture. He wasn't disappointed.

“You know what I mean Dean. Drinking until you pass out every night. I thought we were past this.” Sam gave Dean a final, disappointed look and left his bedroom. A few seconds later, Dean could hear the rest of his Jack being poured down the toilet.

“Is my assistance required?”

Dean grumbled as the Angel, Castiel, appeared in the hallway, looking between Dean in the bedroom and Sam in the bathroom. He forced himself to swing his aching legs over the side of the bed and groaned when he realized his cane had fallen behind the dresser. He saw Castiel begin to approach out of the corner of his eye and snarled. “I don't need your damn help, okay?” 

The Angel nodded, but didn't leave. Whoever programmed Castiel had absolutely no idea about personal boundaries, did they? Dean forced himself to hold in a grunt as he gently lowered himself to his knees and reached blinding behind the dresser for his cane. He felt pain begin to flare in his hip and thighs, and he pulled back to try and get into a more comfortable position. Castiel was still watching him.

He felt shame burn brightly in his cheeks before he even got the words out. “Could you, um...” 

The Angel seemed to get the gist, because he immediately bent down gracefully and extracted the cane from behind the dresser in one quick motion. He reached a hand down to help Dean up, but the latter quickly swatted it away. He could still stand up by himself. He ripped the cane out of Castiel's hands roughly and made his way toward where he heard Sam still rifling around in the bathroom.

His brother was looking around in disgust at the piles of dirty clothes in the corner of the bathroom, as well as the grime covering the rim of the bathtub, sink and toilet. “When was the last time you cleaned this place?”

“Kinda hard to do now.” He muttered, trying to usher Sam out. His brother's eyes immediately softened, and Dean winced. He did not want his brother getting all gooey on him.

“Well now that you have Castiel, it won't be an issue.” Sam said with finality, then made his way to the living room as Dean followed reluctantly. Castiel trailed behind him, and Dean found the way the Angel followed him like some kind of watch dog to be highly unsettling. 

“I still don't want the damn thing, Sam.” Dean complained to his brother as he lowered himself gingerly onto the couch. “I'll keep him for a week, but after that I want him gone.”

“We'll talk in a week.” Sam replied, handing Dean a tall glass of water and a couple of aspirin. “Take those, you're going to need them.”

Dean swallowed the pills reluctantly and set the water back down on the coffee table. Castiel stood near the hallway, staring at him. That was all the damn thing ever did. It was infuriating. “Sam, how do I make him stop?”

“Stop what?” Sam asked absentmindedly as he searched through Dean's empty cupboards. Eventually he pulled out an old can of soup. “You'll need to send Castiel shopping. There's nothing here but booze and Doritos. He can't cook for you with that.”

“Aww, come on Sammy.” Dean teased, finally breaking into a grin. He was still in a foul mood and his head was killing him, but that didn't mean he couldn't have some fun. “You can make me something nice with that, right Cas?”

The Angel didn't respond for a bit, and Dean thought he was actually choosing to ignore him. It kinda pissed him off. After a few moments though, he replied. “Those ingredients would not meet your basic nutritional requirements. Also, would you like to rename me?”

Dean sighed and shook his head. Sam seemed amused. “No, no. It's just a nickname.” The Angel nodded again, filing the information away. Sam turned his stove on and pulled out a small, somewhat dirty pan. He raised his eyes at his brother, and Dean shrugged sheepishly as Sam turned the sink on and started scrubbing it.

“I think you should send him first thing in the morning. I'll go ahead and make the list.”

“Why would you make my shopping list?” Dean scrunched his eyebrows together in distaste and gingerly lifted his legs so they were resting on the coffee table. Much better.

“Because if I let you do it, you'll be dead from scurvy within a week.” Sam still sounded pissy, but it was less disappointed and more exasperated now, so Dean was thankful for that. Castiel was still standing in the hallway staring at him, and he couldn't take it anymore.

“Get in here, stop skulking around like that.” He snapped at the Angel, and Castiel immediately complied by walking forward. “Are you sure he's a Seraph Sam? Aren't they supposed to be _more_ intelligent than other models?”

“Give him some time.” Sam replied, pouring the soup into the only clean bowl he could find and setting it down in front of his brother. “Seraph is revolutionary because it has advanced learning technology integrated into the CPU. He'll learn from you.”

“So what, he'll develop a limp and start drinking like a fish?” Dean joked. Sam glared at his brother.

“Eat your soup.”

“Yes mother.” He sighed and took a few reluctant bites. He really did need to go shopping. He nearly spilled it on himself as the Angel began to move, walking past him and toward Sam in the kitchen. The younger Winchester raised his eyebrows slightly.

“Castiel?”

“Do you require assistance?”

“Actually, yeah.” Sam replied “Go ahead and clean up.” The Angel gave Sam a nod of acknowledgment and immediately went to work cleaning the pan. Sam came over to sit next to Dean on the couch. “Convenient, right?”

“I guess.” Dean replied, still unsure. He hated robots; it felt weird to have something so human looking waiting on him hand and foot.

“Hey, I've got to get back home. I promised Jess we would catch a movie tonight.” Sam finally said after a couple of minutes of silence. Dean nodded. “Are you sure you're going to be okay?”

“I'm fine, Sam.” Dean replied, exasperated. He appreciated the fact that his brother cared about him enough to worry so much, but it was smothering. Ever since his injury, everyone treated him like some delicate flower that needed to be coddled. He hated it. “I've got an Angel now, remember?”

“Take advantage of that, Dean.” Sam said sternly as he stood to leave. “I know you. You're probably planning on just shoving him in a closet for the week. Don't. He's just a machine. He can't judge you.”

Sometimes Dean lamented how well Sam knew him. He couldn't get anything past his younger brother. He flinched back as Castiel leaned down close to him to grab the empty bowl off of the coffee table, then made his way to the kitchen to clean that as well. “Seeya soon, Sammy.”

“I'll come back in a few days.” Sam replied. “You know that you can always call me though, right? If you need me, I'll rush here as soon as I can.”

“I know.” Dean mumbled. He knew that Sam was still sore over the fact that Dean had wanted to move out, but he couldn't let his little brother take care of him for the rest of his life. He wasn't going to be one of those guys who did nothing but burden the people they loved. Castiel emerged from the kitchen and nodded. 

“Goodbye, Sam. Drive safely.”

“Bye, Castiel.” He replied, and then he was gone.

The next day, Dean woke up with a serious hangover. He had almost forgotten what hangovers felt like; his body had been so used to the alcohol before he never had to deal with the come down. Castiel was sitting motionlessly on the couch when he finally swaddled himself up in his bedding and limped out to make some coffee.

“Good morning, Dean.” Castiel immediately stood up as Dean entered the room. “Did you sleep well?”

“Uh... Yeah.” Dean mumbled, trying to figure out how to get into the kitchen without getting near the Angel. “Hey, what time is it?”

“Twelve Thirty-Seven PM, local time. Would you like the weather as well?”

“Uh, no, that's fine.” Dean groaned as he fiddled with the coffee machine. Castiel was looking at him expectantly, and Dean knew he was just waiting to be asked. Well, Dean wasn't going to ask him for help. He had managed perfectly (almost) fine on his own so far, and having some fancy Angel in the house wasn't enough to make him give up his dignity. 

He eventually managed to get the pot brewing, and took a couple more aspirin for his headache. He knew from experience they wouldn't really help, but it was better than nothing. Castiel continued to stand and stare at him in that _way_ that he did, as though he were just waiting to be ordered around. It was weird.

Castiel continued to stare at him as he sat at the table and sipped at his coffee. In fact, he followed him closely the rest of the day. Dean tried to ignore him, but it seemed like whenever he turned around the Angel was just _there_. He occasionally offered to help, but most of the time he just watched.

It was barely five when Dean finally couldn't take it anymore. Between the “may I offer you any assistance?”s and the countless “would you like me to go shopping now?”s, Dean was at the end of his rope. Eventually, he snapped.

“Are you going out?” Castiel asked as Dean struggled to put his boots on, and eventually limped over to the door.

“Yes.” He replied shortly as he opened the door.

“Would you like me to accompany-”

Dean didn't hear the rest of what the Angel was going to say, because he slammed the door in his face. God damn he needed a drink. He only had to wait a few minutes before the taxi showed up, and he made his way slowly over to it. 

“Where to?” Benny asked, getting out and opening the back door so that Dean could put his cane in before he sat down.

“The Roadhouse.” Dean grunted, then hefted himself in. Benny sighed and shook his head before taking his seat behind the wheel again.

“How's Sam?”

“It's amazing how much you know about me considering you're my taxi driver.” Dean grumbled.

“It's amazing how much you tell your taxi driver.” Benny parried easily as he pulled out onto the main road. 

It didn't take long for them to reach their destination. Benny opened the door for Dean, but he didn't offer to help him get out. He learned a long time ago that Dean Winchester didn't take help from anyone, no matter how much he might need it.

Somewhere between his sixth beer and fourth shot of Jack, Dean met a chatty brunette with a sweet smile and perky tits. She wasn't nearly as drunk as he was, but she still seemed into him. Dean wasn't sure what someone like her saw in a cripple like him, but he wasn't about to turn down a night of fun.

He called another cab, this time it was some guy named Garth instead of Benny, and before long they were stumbling into his bedroom and already half naked. Dean couldn't help but wince as she straddled his hips, and she immediately pulled back at the grimace on his face.

“A-are you okay?” She whispered, running a gentle finger over his hip and down his thigh. He forced a smile onto his face and nodded, pulling her into another kiss before an uncomfortable topic like _what happened to you?_ could surface. She returned the kiss, but it was more hesitant this time, more gentle, and Dean felt his heart sink. She was going to be like every other girl he got into his bed after the incident. As soon as they saw the scars on his legs and the grimaces he tried to hide when the pain would hit, they started seeing him as someone to be pitied instead of someone to fuck. Oh sure, the fucking still happened, but then there was always the touchy-feeling _are you okay?_ bullshit.

“Roll over...” Dean mumbled against her lips, forcing himself to pull away. She gave him a strange look, but didn't move from her position. 

“Wouldn't it be easier for you if I ride you?” She asked, hesitant. Dean felt shame boil up on his chest at her words. 

“Tina-”

“Tiffany.” She sighed and rubbed her thigh against his somewhat flagging erection. “My dad was in the war too.”

“Uh... okay?” Dean felt a little awkward now. He didn't really want to hear about the father of the chick he was about to bang. 

“He lost one of his legs.” She continued conversationally as she began thrusting lightly against him. Dean moaned and threw his head back against the pillow at the sensation, but she just continued her torturous pace. “That wasn't the worst part though. He could live without the leg.”

She leaned down and nipped gently at his bottom lip, worrying it between her teeth as she slowly pulled his boxers down and released his throbbing erection then rolled a condom on. He wished she would get to the point or stop talking, but she just continued to grind against him, and without the clothing barrier between them he could do nothing but thrust up weakly, chasing the sensation. Just when he thought he was going to be able to sink home, she pulled away.

“He was just never the same, you know?” She sighed in pleasure as she continued to rub against him teasingly. “He was a good man.”

“Was?” Dean finally managed to choke out, pleasure stilting his words.

“He killed himself. Last year.” She finally sunk down on him fully, but the pleasure was dulled slightly by her confession. He had no idea why she had shared that story with him, but it didn't do much for the mood.

Dean was pleasantly surprised that she stopped being gentle with him after that. Instead of slow, steady undulations, she rode him fast and hard. It was almost unbearable, but so, so good. He cried out on a particularly brutal down thrust, pleasure mixing with the pain in his hip to create some kind of transcendent sensation. Just when his balls began to tighten and he knew his climax was imminent though, a familiar voice called out in the room. 

“Dean? Are you alright?”

Tiffany screamed and immediately slid off of him, then pulled the covers up around her naked body. Castiel stood in the doorway, completely unruffled, and stared at Dean with those piercing eyes. Dean gulped nervously and looked between the Angel and Tiffany. 

“Cas... What the fuck do you think you're doing?”

“I heard you scream. You sounded like you were in pain. Would you like me to take you to the hospital?”

“Do I want you to- no! Get out of here!” He yelled at the Angel. Tiffany was shaking in shock and leaning toward him in fear. Dean almost thought Castiel looked uncertain as he gave Dean one last look, but eventually he spoke. 

“My apologies. I won't bother you again.” 

“You better not!” Dean yelled at the now closed door. He turned back to Tiffany, but she was already pulling her panties on and grabbing her discarded jacket. “Hey...” He called gently. “Are you leaving?”

“Um... Yeah.” She nodded as she pulled her skirt back on. “I'm not into threesomes, sorry. You and your friend should probably tell people before you bring them-”

“Hey, hey! It's not like that!” Dean retorted defensively. “He's not even human. He's an Angel.” 

“Oh, god, ew.” She scrunched up her nose and finally grabbed her purse, then made her way toward the door. “That's even _worse_. I know people use them for that now, but I think that is absolutely-”

“What? No!” Dean was shocked at what she was implying. “I don't- god I would never sleep with Cas.” 

“Whatever. You don't have to explain yourself to me.” She sighed and opened the door. “Bye Dean. I really hope everything goes well for you.”

Dean groaned as she left and fell back against the pillow. His erection was long gone by now, and his headache from earlier was back and worse. “Cas!” He yelled, and after only a couple moments the Angel was there. 

“Yes, Dean?”

“Get me some water. And the strongest painkillers you can find in the cabinet.” He mumbled against the pillow. He could already tell he was going to need it.


End file.
